Voices of a Foreign Land
by atypicalhumanbeing
Summary: John's PTSD is telling him to do things he'd never normally do. Sherlock desperately wants to help, but it's a bit difficult when you're looking down the barrel of a loaded gun... DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sherlock.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Get away from me!" I yelled at Sherlock, pointing my gun towards his chest. He had just come into his flat with the shopping. There was a frown on his face, he clearly hadn't been expecting to see me like this when he returned home. It was uncharacteristic of me, I knew that. Deep in the back of my mind, something was telling me to stop, to put down the gun and to let Sherlock help me. However, these instructions were mostly drowned out by other voices in my head screaming at me to pull the trigger. They said that if I didn't kill Sherlock, he was going to kill me any second.

After a few seconds of deliberation, Sherlock slowly put down the shopping and raised his hands in the air. I knew he was trying to show me that meant no harm, but all I could hear were the voices screaming that he was faking it, that I had to act now to save myself, and Mary.

"John? What are you doing?" He asked slowly and carefully. I gritted my teeth. Trying to win me over, was he? I wouldn't have any of that.

I frowned at Sherlock, fixing him in a cold, hard stare. He was searching my face, looking for an explanation. He found none. All he could see was my rage. I knew that because all I could feel was rage. "Get away from me." I repeated in a low growl. It even frightened me to hear such a threatening tone, but the voices were congratulating me as I said it. I wanted them on my side.

"John, it's me." Sherlock said. In the back of my mind, I knew that Sherlock was trying to help, trying to break me out of this; but the voices were louder than that thought, and they screamed 'Liar!' over and over again.

Sherlock slowly started to lower one of his hands towards his pocket. He must have a gun, or a way to call security. I had to stop him getting the upper hand, I needed to stay in control of the situation. "Don't you dare." I whispered, tilting the gun up slightly so it was aiming at Sherlock's head.

"Alright." He said soothingly, trying to stop the situation from escalating. The voices were even louder now. Ordering that I shoot Sherlock while I had the chance. As Sherlock raised his hand back up to join the other one in the air, I lowered the gun back down so it aimed at Sherlock's chest. I wasn't sure how much longer I could fight the voices' demands for.

"Leave now or I will shoot you." I said, taking a very small step towards Sherlock. He looked slightly panicked now. The cogs in his head must have been working overtime to try and find a solution. The voices were louder than ever now. I was beyond caring about the consequences of my actions. All I wanted to do was make them shut up, whatever that would take.

I was aware that my breathing and heart rate were increasing as fear and adrenaline pumped through my veins. I knew that the only way to make this stop, to make the voices stop, was the shoot the man standing opposite me, and shoot him dead.

I could see Sherlock desperately trying to find a way to save himself. I wanted to scream at him that the only way to avoid being shot would be to run, and run fast. However, my mouth wouldn't obey me. The voices said that I had to shoot Sherlock, had to kill him.

Sherlock made one more desperate attempt to get through to me. "John, it's me, Sherlock. Just let me help you, let me take the gun.". He reached out his hands ever so slightly towards me. His voice was kind and concerned. The voices told me not to be fooled by it. I began to agree with them. This was very unlike Sherlock. He must be up to something. I had to stop him.

As I was thinking about what to do next, Sherlock took a bold step forwards. My eyes widened in shock. The voices were yelling now, yelling that Sherlock was making his move, that time was running out. I tried to reason with them, but to no avail. I had to shoot to make them stop, and I was willing to do anything to make them stop now.

My grip tightened on the gun handle and my finger tightened around the trigger. I braced myself. Just as I was pulling the trigger, I suddenly thought 'This is Sherlock, my best friend. He's not going to hurt me.' But it was too late, I had already released the bullet. In the last seconds, I turned the gun slightly to the left, hoping that I wouldn't make a fatal shot.

The bullet hit and Sherlock went down almost instantly. I closed my eyes. The voices were still screaming. They told me how stupid I was, because he might not be dead, he had a chance to survive as long as the ambulance was fast enough.

The longer I stood there, gun pointed at Sherlock still, the louder the voices became. I tried shutting my eyes, but it didn't help. The voices said that to ensure Sherlock's death, I had to delay the rescue, shoot anyone that came into the room. Nobody was my friend, the world was my enemy.

It didn't take long for the police to arrive. I heard the voices and footsteps on the stairs. Then, three men burst into the room. Two, I recognised as armed response men, the third was Detective Inspector Lestrade. As soon as I set eyes on him, the voices were screaming at me to shoot him dead.

I looked back at Sherlock, following Lestrade's gaze. He looked paler than ever now, a large crimson mark on his pale shirt. The voices cheered inside my head, chanting 'He's dying, he's dying!'. I had to look away to make them stop.

"John? What are you doing?" Lestrade asked, staring at me in disbelief. The voices telling me to kill him were getting louder. I knew that if something didn't happen soon, there would be another body lying on the floor, or maybe more than one.

"Leave now or I'll shoot you all." I growled, desperately willing them to leave before they got hurt, while the voices yelled at me to stop wasting my time and get on with it. They were starting to call me a coward, something that I simply couldn't stand. I tightened my grip on the trigger.

Before I had a chance to do anything else, the taser hit me. I screamed; not because of pain but because I knew I had been defeated, that I had failed. The voices chanted 'Failure!' over and over again. I fell to the floor as I lost all control over my muscles, dropping the gun as I did so. The armed response men rushed forwards, sliding the gun away from me across the floor and pinning me to the ground.

The shock of the taser only lasted a few seconds. I was still shaking a little, but was easily able to start fighting back. More men had appeared from somewhere, they helped to pin me to the ground. I struggled under their grasp and repeated the threats that the voices were saying. The volatility of it all took me by surprise, but I couldn't do anything to stop myself.

Eventually, I gave in and allowed the men to pin me to the ground. Breathing heavily, I started to whisper at the voices to shut up. Greg appeared next to my face. The voices urged me to hurt him, but I was powerless under the grip of so many men. Instead, I told the voices to shut up, saying it a little louder this time.

"What's that? John, can you hear me?"

I was no longer looking at Lestrade, instead, I stared into nowhere and told the voices to shut up. Every time I said it, I became louder and angrier because they would not obey me.

"John, nobody's talking. Who needs to shut up?"

I wanted to tell Greg everything. That I hadn't wanted to kill Sherlock, that the voices were filling my mind, but I couldn't. The voices consumed my thoughts. I couldn't do anything by my own will anymore. The voices were telling me to keep fighting, but I knew it would be no use.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" I yelled, over and over, desperately trying to hear myself think over the orders. I began to quiver and shake. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fists. Nothing worked. Nothing would make them stop. Above me, Greg was talking to someone that I didn't recognise.

"Did you get anything out of him?"

"No, I don't think he knew I was there. He just keeps telling something, or someone, to shut up."

"Maybe he's hearing things? You said he suffers from PTSD, it seems like a viable reason for what's happened."

The stranger crouched down next to me. I was now mumbling 'Shut up' over and over, almost incoherently. Every time I said it, the voices got louder. I needed to make it stop, to make everything stop.

"Doctor Watson? Can you hear me?" She asked kindly.

I wanted to say 'yes'. To beg her to help me, to make the voices stop, but all I could do was mumble 'shut up'. Instead, I nodded my head very slightly. The movement was minute, but the woman saw it.

"Are you hearing things?" She asked carefully. The woman was very close now, I could feel her breath on my ear. I nodded again. Then, going against the voices, I managed to whisper "Make them stop, please.", before I began to mumble 'shut up'. once more. Engaging with the woman had made the voices angry, and therefore louder.

The woman stood back up again and spoke. She must have thought I couldn't hear her, but despite the voices, I managed to make out what she was saying.

"Let's sedate him and get him somewhere safe. Dave, have you got some lorazepam? We'll need the liquid form; I don't think he's in a state to take pills right now."

Gently, someone tried to unclench my fist. I knew that they were doing this in order to find a vein to inject the needle into. The voices yelled at me yet again, saying that if they injected me, I would sleep and never wake up. To be honest, I didn't care, so long as it stopped the voices; but my hand wouldn't obey me, and it remained clenched into a tight fist. If I'd had my eyes open, I was sure I'd see that the knuckle was white.

"John, just relax. We're here to help you, whatever the voices are saying." The woman said gently.

Eventually, seeing that calm persuasion wasn't going to work, the woman prised open my fist and pressed my palm to the floor, preventing me from forming another fist. I felt her soft fingers on the skin on the back of my hand. The voices screamed at me that it was my last chance to fight, that I needed to pull my hand away, but there were too many people, and I was too weak to fight. The needle prick was sharp and sudden and I flinched, trying to pull my hand away; but just as I thought, it was held tightly. I could feel the cold spreading up my arm. The voices wanted me to fight against it, but I couldn't have even if I'd wanted to.

"That's it, you're safe now, John. Just relax." The woman soothed me gently as darkness washed over me and my muscles relaxed. Finally, the voices dimmed and the world faded away.

"Right, pick him up boys. Lestrade you'll have to come with him. He needs to wake up with a familiar face."

"Yeah, sure. I'll phone his wife on the way."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As soon as the sedative began to wear off, the voices returned. They were quiet to begin with, but the more I woke up, the louder they became. They whispered 'Run! You're not safe here.', but I was too drowsy to even attempt to break free.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. The room was bright and I had to squint at first in order to keep them open. As they adjusted, I tried to move, only to find that restraints around my wrists, ankles and waist held me firmly in place. 'We said you should have escaped while you had the chance.' The voices whispered. 'Don't believe anyone in here, they're all liars'.

I looked around the room and slowly focused on the two people sitting in chairs to my right. One was Lestrade, the other looked like a nurse. She seemed vaguely familiar.

The voices were whispering that they were about to kill me. I tried to ignore them, but it was getting harder by the second.

"Hello John." The nurse said. Her voice was familiar too. "My name's Laura." She smiled at me.

I frowned at her, trying to place the voice. "Is something wrong?" She asked, smiling reassuringly now. The way a doctor does when something definitely is wrong, but they don't want you to know about it.

"You're familiar." I said cautiously. My speech was a little slurred, probably from the sedative, although the voices said that Laura had poisoned me.

"I was the nurse who spoke to you earlier. I wasn't sure whether you'd remember that or not." She was still smiling, but I knew her head was full of questions. Funnily enough, mine was too. I was confused. I remembered her speaking to me, but I couldn't remember why she had been there, or why I was here.

"Where's Sherlock?" I asked, suddenly realising he wasn't there.

The nurse's face remained impassive, but Lestrade frowned. I looked between the two of them. What were they hiding?

"What do you remember, John?" The nurse asked slowly. Her words, tone of voice and facial expression were all carefully considered.

I thought hard, desperately trying to clear the fog that was surrounding my memory. "I went to visit Sherlock , but he wasn't there. I let myself into his flat and turned the telly on to wait for him." I paused, something definitely happened after that, but I couldn't think what.

"Go on." The nurse gently prompted.

"Sorry, it's all a haze from there. I remember feeling angry, and scared, but I can't remember why. Then, you were there and you said something to a man about lorazepam, and then I ended up here." I creased my forehead. There was definitely something I was missing.

"Is that everything you remember?" She asked, her face now showing evident concern.

I closed my eyes and thought hard. The voices told me not to say anything. I told them to shut up. Ah, telling voices to shut up. I remembered doing that.

"There were voices. And I couldn't make them stop." I said, despite those same voices screaming at me that Laura was going to use this information against me in the future. I looked down at the sheet and saw that my hands were clenched into tight fists. I wanted to hide my face in my hands and turn away from Laura and Lestrade, but the restraints held me firmly in place.

"John? John!" I snapped back into the real world and looked at Laura again.

"John, are you hearing those voices now?" She asked, leaning forward a little.

I nodded, no longer trusting myself to speak, in case the voices spoke for me.

"What are they saying, John?" She asked quietly.

I simply shook my head. The voices were burbling away. I zoned out of the real world and listened to them properly. 'You do , John. You remember what you did, you just can't face it as a reality. You. Shot. Sherlock.'

"No!" I shouted.

"What is it, John?" Laura asked, her hand was on my shoulder now.

"Just make them stop, please." I mumbled, unable to hold it together any longer.

"Alright, just wait one minute." She said, squeezing my shoulder gently. "I'll back back in a minute." She said to Lestrade before racing out of the room.

Lestrade stared at me as I shook uncontrollably. "John, look at me, Sherlock's alive. You didn't kill him." He was trying to be reassuring, but I could hear the panic in his voice. He didn't know what to do.

"But I wanted to kill him." I said, looking up at Lestrade. "And you."

Lestrade turned away for a second, unable to think about alternative endings to the situation I had created.

That was when the panic set in. It was the voices, they told me over and over that I had to break free, to escape. I pulled against the restraints, feeling them slowly loosen. The voices drowned out Lestrade's attempts at calming me down. All I knew was that I had to get far away from here as fast as possible.

Suddenly, one restraint snapped, then another. I pulled myself free quickly and leapt up. Lestrade immediately flew into action, throwing himself on top of me and pressing my body into the floor. I wrestled with him there, scratching and screaming and scrabbling. Lestrade was strong, and he had been trained to take down criminals.

Just as I was starting to break free again, Laura ran back into the room with several other doctors. They all ran at me and helped Lestrade pin me to the floor. I screamed at them, copying the abuse that the voices were telling me to say.

Once the men were holding me securely in place, and I realised that there was no way that I could break free from their grasp, I relented and lay still. I was still panicking, though, and desperately wanted to hide. I clenched my hands into fists and gritted my teeth, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. I couldn't make the voices stop.

"Alright, John. That's it, just lie still." Laura said soothingly. She put her face very close to mine so that she could whisper in my ear softly.

"Someone's here to see you, so open your eyes." I was a little confused at this, and cautiously opened my eyes to see who it was. I looked up and saw Mary looking down at me. She looked terrified. Clearly, she had witnessed what had just happened. I suppose seeing her was meant to relieve me and calm me down, but the voices were shouting at me, filling my head. 'Tell her to run! It's her last chance. These people are evil, all of them. Escape, and take Mary with you.' they chimed in unison.

Unable to ignore the voices, I braced myself and gave one last struggle, desperately trying to wrench myself free from the grasping hands that I was sure were about to bring me to my end. I took everyone by surprise, so I managed to break free, stand up and grab Mary's hand before Lestrade tackled me to the floor once again. Even there, I struggled; pulling and thrashing and wriggling, desperate to break free.

"It's ok, John." Mary kept saying, although from her face and voice, it was clear she didn't think that.

"We need to knock him out." I heard one of my captors say.

"I agree, but a needle is too dangerous with him in this state." Laura replied.

"We have gas, and a mask?"

"I'll give it a try." Laura replied, taking it from one of the men. She got down next to me. Immediately, the voices kicked into action, telling me that it was a lethal gas, that I must avoid the mask at all costs. I quickly turned my head away from Laura and struggled harder against the grip of the hands holding me down.

"John, this will help. Let me help you." Laura said.

'Liar!' Screamed the voices. I tried to evade the mask, but I was fast running out of energy and my strength was ebbing away. Eventually, Laura pushed the mask onto my face and held it firmly. I immediately gave up struggling against the hands and focused on holding my breath for as long as possible. However, I desperately needed oxygen after the fight.

After about ten seconds, I was forced to give in and took a breath of the gas. It smelled sweet and made me feel giddy. Mary crouched down beside me and brushed my hair away from my forehead. She had tears in her eyes.

After only two breaths, my eyelids grew heavy and my muscles relaxed. The voices faded away and I allowed myself to give in and accept the sleep.

"Ok, he's out. Let's get him back onto the bed."

Hands lifted my limp body and carefully placed me down onto the bed, where new, stronger restraints had already been brought in to prevent a repeat of these events.

"What happened, Greg?" Mary asked, taking a seat beside my bed.

"He woke up and was hearing voices. He couldn't cope -I've no idea what they were saying but it must have been bad- so Laura went to get him another sedative to calm him down. Then, when she left the room, he flipped out and managed to break out of the restraints, so I wrestled him to the floor and somehow managed to hold him there until help, and you, arrived." Lestrade replied. He sounded shaken and a little panicky himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks** **to ****everyone who has reviewed, followed or favourites this story so far. I'm just going to point out that I have no medical knowledge nor personal experience of PTSD, so feel free to point out any inaccuracies you see.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

After the panic attack, I was kept sedated for several days. Mary, Greg and even Mycroft took turns to sit with me while I slept. Occasionally, I was vaguely aware of their presence, and it was comforting.

However, when I finally awoke on the fourth day since my hospitalisation, nobody was there except Laura.

"Hello John." She said, smiling at me. I blinked several times, trying to clear my vision, which seemed to by very fuzzy at the edges.

"Your eyesight might be a bit blurry. Don't worry, we're just keeping the sedative fairly high at the moment to keep those voices at bay." She said gently.

I licked my lips, they were dry and cracked. Of course, I had been on a drip while I was sedated.

"Thirsty?" Laura asked, picking up a cup with a straw in from my bedside table. I nodded and went to reach for the glass before I remembered the restraints. They felt thicker and stronger than before. Damn.

Laura gently raised the bed so that I was in a relaxed sitting position and held the straw up to my lips. I drank slowly, enjoying the feeling of the water sliding down my throat.

"Better?" She asked once I had finished.

"Yes." I replied, glancing up at her as I did so. She looked worried. I frowned. "What is it?" I asked. My words slurred together, but Laura still understood.

"Sherlock's being released today. I was wondering whether you wanted to see him." She said, trying to sound cheerful.

Sherlock. Released from where? Had he been arrested? Oh no, I shot him. Wow, my brain was working slowly.

"Yes. I would." I said, nodding slightly. I tried to sound convincing, but I wasn't very sure.

"You don't have to." Laura said, picking up on my unease.

"Yes I do. I need to sort it out." I replied.

"Alright. I'll let him know you're awake. But first, do you want something to eat?"

I thought about it. Part of me was dying for something to eat, something of substance, but the rest of me couldn't face the thought of it. I shook my head. "Not now."

"Ok, not now, but you'll have to eat sometime, otherwise you'll get ill." Laura said.

A few minutes later, Sherlock hobbled into the room, following another nurse who left after a nod towards Laura, who was remaining in the corner of the room. I didn't look up until Sherlock sat down and cleared his throat.

"They told me not to make you think too much, because you're sky high on drugs. I always thought it would be the other way around." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were full of concern and worry.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." I said, looking him straight in the eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, John. You weren't in control." Sherlock said, watching my face closely to gague my reaction.

"The voices. They said you were going to kill me." I said. The words were still slurring, and it was starting to drive me nuts.

"I thought you were going to kill me." Sherlock said, another attempt to break the ice. It failed miserably. I wasn't in the mood for joking around.

"The voices told me to kill you. I wanted to kill you."

"No, John. The voices wanted you to kill me. You didn't." Sherlock replied confidently, dropping the jokes instantly.

"How would you know?" I asked indignantly.

"Because you're a crack shot. If you had wanted me dead, I wouldn't be here right now. I'm still alive because you chose to turn the gun to the side, to give me a chance to survive."

I was silent then, because I knew Sherlock was right. Why is he always right? I clenched the sheets between my fists, the voices were starting to whisper at the back of my head again. 'He should be dead.' 'He could be hiding any number of weapons in that coat.' 'Stay away from Sherlock Holmes.'

The last one was definitely Sally Donovan, it sounded just like her, and she had said those exact words to me when I had first met Sherlock. Was she right? I could no longer tell.

"John?" Sherlock asked, sounding concerned.

I looked up at him again, my hands were still clenched into tight fists.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

"The voices are back." I mumbled.

Laura stood up and came over to me. She sat down next to Sherlock and leaned towards me. "What are they saying, John?" She asked gently.

I took a deep breath, unsure about how Sherlock would take what I was going to say. "That Sherlock should be dead, and I need to kill him before he kills me."

"And do you believe the voices?" She asked, seemingly unscathed by what I had just said. I didn't dare to look at Sherlock, in case it made the voices worse.

"I don't know." I said, lowering my head. I felt guilty. Shouldn't I be sure that the voices weren't true? Shouldn't I trust Sherlock?

"John, look at me." Laura said firmly. She sounded very serious now. This was serious. I didn't know what to do, I was starting to panic again. I lifted my head back up again to look at Laura.

"If you had a gun in your hand right now, would you shoot Sherlock?" She asked slowly, allowing my brain time to fully process it.

I thought about it. Would I? I imagined the gun in my hand, my finger around the trigger. I imagined pointing it at Sherlock, and I imagined releasing the bullet, this time with fatal implications. Laura watched me carry out all these actions. She watched as my hands began to tremble. "John?" She prompted.

"Yes" I whispered, almost too quietly to be heard, but not quite. "Yes I would.". Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Then he opened them again to study my face, steepling his hands under his chin as he did so.

Laura leaned in close to my face and grasped one of my hands in hers. "Why?" She asked me.

I was silent for a moment. Then I answered, because I knew that sooner or later I would have to. "To make the voices stop." I said, clenching my fist again but not pulling my hand away.

"And did they stop before?" Laura pressed, seeing that she was getting somewhere.

"No." I whispered. "Because I didn't kill him."

"Alright." Laura said gently. She was rubbing my hand now, her thumb moving in careful circles across my skin. "You're doing well, John. Just stay calm and take deep breaths."

I tried to follow Laura's instructions. I focused on my breathing. In and out. Slowly, my heart rate slowed and I unclenched my fists. Laura squeezed my hand and sat back in her chair.

After a few minutes of silence, the voices began to speak again. 'You idiot. Now they'll think you're some kind of killer.'. I closed my eyes. Why would they never shut up?

"John, are you hearing the voices again?" Laura asked, back to her usual calm tone. I nodded but didn't open my eyes. "Do you want to tell me what they're saying?" She asked. I shook my head. Saying it out loud would make them too real, and probably make them louder as well. "Shall I give you something to make them stop?" Laura questioned. I nodded. Anything that would make them stop had to be a good thing.

I thought Laura was going to leave the room like last time, but she already seemed to have the drug with her. I didn't open my eyes as Laura reached for my hand and gently took it in her hands, looking for a vein. When she found one, she carefully injected the needle and the familiar coldness began to run up my arm. Immediately, my muscles relaxed and I rested my head back into the mattress. Laura lowered the bed so I was lying flat.

"Is he out cold now?" Sherlock asked her.

"Pretty much. He still had some running through his system from the last few days, as you could probably tell."

"Yeah. How do you make his 'voices' stop in the long run? You can't just keep him sedated for the rest of his life." Sherlock replied.

"No, he's on medication that should start to make it better within about a week, but until it kicks in, we just have to try and keep him calm and keep the voices at bay." Laura explained.

"Is there anything I can do?" Sherlock asked after a pause.

"For now, you can stay with John. He'll know you're there. In the long run, you can talk to him, help us get to the bottom of what happened so that we can stop it happening again. He needs support right now, Sherlock, even if the voices are telling him lies about you."

After that, there was silence. Laura went back to her desk in the corner of the room. Sherlock stayed by my side. He was later joined by Mary, although I wasn't really sure when, and I was too heavily drugged to open my eyes or greet her. At least the voices were silenced for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_"Captain Watson? Man down, man down!"_

_I looked towards the panicked voice and saw a man lying on the golden sand. He wasn't just any man. No. This was Davies, one of my best mates on the squad. Immediately, I sprinted over, keeping low as bullets whizzed past me._

_As soon as I reached him, I noticed the expanding pool of deep crimson blood that was starting to stain the sand around him. I knew there was nothing I could do, but I had to try, I had to do something. Why was it always the best people who got killed? Why Davies?_

_The young soldier who had called me over had already moved on to protect me and others from the insurgents who were still firing a shower of bullets over the desert. I leant down towards Davies and spoke to him softly._

_"It's alright, Bill, I'm here."_

_He mumbled something under his breath. I leaned in closer. "I'm sorry I've got to leave you. Get word to my wife."_

_"No, Bill, this is not your-"_

_I never finished my sentence. One of the bullets slammed into my shoulder with unimaginable force. I was pulled backwards by its momentum and fell to the floor in agony._

_Someone ran towards me, screaming that the medic was down. He slammed onto his knees beside me._

_"Captain Watson? Can you hear me?"_

_I wanted to nod but the pain was too great, so I lay there silently screaming as the world began to fade away._

"John! Wake up. It's ok. John?" Someone was shaking me awake.

I opened my eyes. I was shaking uncontrollably and my clothes were soaked in sweat. The sheets on my bed were thoroughly ruffled. Sherlock was holding my shoulders and Mary grabbed one of my hands when I looked at her. Laura was standing to the side.

I took in several deep breaths, desperately trying to calm myself. "It's ok, John. You're alright." Sherlock said, letting go of my shoulders and taking his seat again.

"John, you were having a nightmare. Can you tell us about it?" Laura asked gently, kneeling down beside the bed so that she was level with me.

I took several more deep breaths, trying to control myself. My voice was hoarse and my throat burned. How long had I screamed for? "I was in Afghanistan. We were running from some gunmen who had ambushed us when my friend was shot. I couldn't save him, but I tried to, and then I was shot as well." I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. The more awake I became, the more voices began to talk in the back of my head. At least at that moment they were quiet enough to ignore.

"John? Look at me." It was Mary. This was the first time she'd said anything since I'd woken up. I opened my eyes and looked! over to her. Our fingers were still intertwined.

"You're safe here. Nobody's going to hurt you." She said. Tears welled up in my eyes.

"That's not what I'm afraid of right now." I said . "I'm afraid because of the pain, the pain that bullet caused; because I inflicted that same pain on Sherlock, and he wasn't even my enemy."

Mary squeezed my hand even tighter. I looked over to Sherlock. He smiled slightly, I frowned. "You know what? I didn't even feel any pain when you shot me, John. I was unconscious before I hit the floor."

I wanted to smile back at him, because he was being so forgiving, so considerate; but I couldn't find a way to make my muscles work, so I just stared at Sherlock and tried to show my gratitude with my eyes.

I was silent for a while. I wanted to scrunch up into a protective ball, but the restraints wouldn't allow me to. I pulled against them, even though I knew it would be in vain.

"Do you want me to get something to help calm you down?" Laura asked carefully.

"No." I answered immediately, and with a slight tone of anger that I hadn't quite meant.

"Why?" Laura asked, seemingly unfazed by my reaction, although Sherlock and Mary looked just a little taken aback.

"Because they meant I couldn't wake up, couldn't break free from the dream." I said.

"And couldn't stop screaming." Sherlock added, earning himself a sharp glare from Mary and Laura.

"How long did it take you to wake me?" I asked curiously.

Sherlock glanced at Laura before looking back at me. "Almost ten minutes." He eventually said. I shuddered. I had screamed straight for ten minutes? No wonder my throat hurt.

"Would you like a drink?" Laura asked, as if she was reading my thoughts; or that's what the voices whispered.

I nodded and gratefully allowed Laura to hold the straw to my mouth, for I was sure I would have spilled the drink had I held it in my own shaking hands.

"Well, if you won't have lorazepam, at least take these." Laura said, holding out a small pot of tablets towards me. I frowned and looked up at her. "What are they for?" I asked, eyeing them wearily.

"Some that will stop the voices, and some to calm you down a bit." Laura explained. "You've been having them intravenously until now, but I think you should be able to swallow the pills now."

"They won't sedate me again, will they?" I asked cautiously.

"No, they'll just help you to relax."

I nodded, but didn't take them from Laura's hand. The voices were getting a little louder now. They told me that the drugs were poison. I looked to Mary, hoping she would offer me a more reliable answer.

"Just take them." She said in a firm but caring voice, so I did. I swallowed them down with some water and ignored the voices' rising cries of contempt at ignoring them.

Mary smiled and rubbed my hand gently with her thumb. Sherlock simply sat and watched me, unsure of what to do now. Laura returned to her desk once she was sure that I was alright.

"You gave us such a fright, John." Mary said after a minute. "Sherlock and I had both nodded off when we were woken by the most painful scream I've ever heard. You sounded like a dying animal." She added.

"Uh...thanks?" I said cautiously, not quite sure whether or not Mary was making a joke.

After that, we were silent for a long time. At first the drugs had caused the voices to die down a little, but as time went on, they began to get harder and harder to ignore. 'Those pills were poison, you haven't got long left to live.' 'Sherlock's going to kill Mary now you're not around to protect her.' 'Sherlock could kill you all now, and you're powerless because of the restraints...'

"No, he wouldn't." I muttered, unable to ignore the voices anymore.

"What's that, John?" Sherlock asked. I noticed that he had slightly tensed; he already knew what it was.

"No! No he wouldn't! Stop!" I suddenly shouted, frightening everyone, including myself.

"Who, John?" Mary asked, gripping my hand tightly as if she was trying to anchor me into reality.

"Sherlock." I muttered, only just loud enough to be heard.

Sherlock leaned forwards then. The voices exploded 'He's making a move.' 'Look how defenceless you are.' 'I hope your final words will be good ones.'

"He's not, I'm not, I won't have to." I said in answer to all three statements.

"I'm not what?" Sherlock inquired. In the corner of my eye, I saw Laura reaching into the drawer of her desk. I tried to ignore her.

"You're not going to kill me. Say it." I demanded, needing to hear the words from the man himself. Sherlock hesitated for a second. "Say it!" I ordered.

"John, calm down. You're safe here. Nobody's going to hurt you, certainly not me." Sherlock said quickly, desperately trying to diffuse the situation.

"I'm not safe, I'm defenceless." I retorted, pulling at the restraints to illustrate my point.

"Is that what the voices are telling you?" Laura questioned from beside me. How did she get there? Her silent movements were unnerving to say the least.

"What do you think?" I asked angrily. I could feel the rage welling up inside me, much as it had on the night that I shot Sherlock. I couldn't let anything like that happen again. I mustn't.

"John, I think it might be best if we helped you to relax." Laura said gently, eyeing the veins in my hand as she did so.

"I don't want to be locked in my dreams again, I can't cope with that." I said frantically, starting to panic at the thought of it.

"I won't sedate you so heavily, so we'll easily wake you if you have another nightmare."

I was about to protest when the voices gave me a brilliant idea. Deep in my mind, I knew it was the wrong thing to do, but the voices were strong and I was desperate not to be forced into dream land yet again.

"Ok." I said, trying to sound defeated. "But please can I do it myself, then I'll feel in control." Laura looked about to disagree, so I added. "I'm a doctor, I know how to do it, and you'll only have to untie my left hand." Conveniently, this was the one nearest Laura.

"Alright." She said eventually. "But we tell nobody about this."

I nodded, time to put my plan into action.

Laura untied my hand and gave me the needle. I began to point it towards my right hand, but then I quickly twisted it round and plunged the end of the needle into Laura instead. It went directly into a vein, just as I had hoped.

Laura's eyes went wide with betrayal before she slumped to the floor. Mary gasped and put her hand over her mouth, not quite able to believe what I had just done. To be honest, I couldn't quite believe it either. Sherlock acted quickly, jumping to his feet and racing to Laura's desk.

"Mary, go and get another doctor to help Laura." He said quickly. Mary immediately got to her feet and was out of the room in a flash.

Sherlock fumbled around Laura's desk, clearly looking for something. He opened the drawer and produced another needle, then he swiftly walked back over to me. "John, I know the voices told you to do that, and I'm sorry that I have to do this." He said.

A doctor ran in at that point, followed by Mary. They both stood by the door as they watched the events unfold, stunned.

Before I could react, Sherlock pinned my free hand down with one of his own and quickly injected the sedative. I tried to pull away but his grip was too strong. I glared at him. "Traitor." I murmured, before my eyelids grew heavy and my muscles relaxed.

"I'm sorry Mary." Sherlock said quietly, turning around to face her.

"You did what you had to. I can't believe he just did that." Mary replied.

"That wasn't John, that was the voices." Sherlock said, before adding "I think Laura's ok, but she'll be out for a few hours."

"And you said the patient managed to inject her?" The doctor asked, trying to piece together what had happened.

"Yes." Mary murmured, too shaken to say anything else.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I awoke the next morning to find a stranger sitting next to my bed. I quickly scanned the room with my eyes, but nobody else was there. "Who are you?" I asked cautiously. It was only then that I noticed my bed had been raised ,while I was sedated, from flat to a sitting position.

"Hello John. I'm Robert Lyle. I'm here to try to get to the bottom of what caused your illness, and to help you sort it out."

"Surely you know that?" I said slowly. "I was in the army, I got shot, now I suffer from post traumatic stress disorder."

Doctor Lyle smiled. "Yes, we know that. But you've been fine for months, and even before that, you never heard voices."

I glanced away for a second, a small feeling of guilt rising from my stomach.

"John? Your therapist informed us that you've never heard voices until now. Is that correct?" The doctor asked, sensing my uncomfortableness.

I thought for a moment, then sighed. I might as well get it out now. "I did hear voices, but I didn't tell my therapist." I admitted quietly.

"Why not?" He asked, leaning forwards a little.

I closed my eyes. Putting this into words was harder than I had expected. "I didn't tell her in case she thought I was mad."

"Just because you hear voices doesn't make you mad."

"Well then why am I in a psychiatric hospital, restrained to a bed and being sedated almost non stop?!" I burst out.

"Calm down, John. You're not mad, but you are a danger to yourself and others at the moment due to the voices."

I didn't reply. Instead, I looked down at the sheets and tried to unclench my fists. How had I let this happen? I had always been able to control it until now.

"John?"

"Hmm?" I didn't bother looking up.

"What did the voices say, when you were first back here from Afghanistan?"

I mulled the question over in my head for a while. I could still remember what they said pretty clearly, but I wasn't sure I wanted to share that with the Doctor. Why was it so important anyway?

Finally, I glanced up, although my eye contact was fleeting - I'd never been good at lying - and said "I don't really remember."

Doctor Lyle looked at me for a second, thinking and analysing. I didn't like his stare, it was much like the one Sherlock used as he deduced what you had been up to for the last three days, but somehow it was less pleasant, and sent a cold shiver down my spine.

After several long seconds, he said quietly "John, this is only going to work if you fully cooperate."

"I am." I returned, although we both knew that wasn't quite true.

"To fully cooperate, John, you have to always tell me the truth, the whole truth and -"

"This sounds like a bloody court of law!" I interrupted.

"Yes, and you're lucky it isn't really one." Doctor Lyle replied pointedly. I sighed in exasperation although I knew he was right. Sherlock had been lucky.

"...and" Doctor Lyle continued "you have to trust me, and everyone else here."

"Where's Sherlock? And Mary?" I questioned, completely ignoring the last statement. Doctor Lyle quickly scribbled something down onto a notepad before looking up at me again.

"These meetings are only to be between you and me." He said calmly, although I could see he was starting to get irritated. Good, at least that might cut short this 'meeting' .

"Why?"

"Because we discuss private matters with patients which they wouldn't want to be shared with family."

"But it is shared with the whole team here."

Doctor Lyle wrote something down on his notepad again before continuing. "Yes, but that's so we all know what we're dealing with."

"Well then you might as well have the whole team crowded in here now, in fact, they're probably all watching on CCTV with sound!" I exploded, twisting my head desperately to see the cameras.

"John, you need to calm down."

"That's all very well and good for you to say, you're not the one being held against a bed by leather straps that rub your skin raw, you're not the one who has to be escorted everywhere, including the toilet, you're not the one hearing voices telling you to kill everyone you love and run from whoever you don't trust!" I yelled. I hadn't meant to go quite that far, and I'd possibly let slip more than I'd wanted to, but I couldn't do anything about that now. Doctor Lyle did several more seconds of scribbling before looking back up. I had definitely said too much...

Doctor Lyle took a deep breath. It was only then that I realised I was breathing incredibly fast. "John, just copy my breathing, would you?"

"No!" I would have turned away at that point and hunched into a ball, but I couldn't, so I instead tugged hard at the restraints, causing my skin underneath them to burn.

I realised I was being unrealistic and that my behaviour was ridiculous, but when you've been trapped for so long, you no longer really care. I was still breathing far too quickly, and was starting to feel a little faint because of it, so much so that I didn't hear the door click open, or the rush of footsteps coming towards me. It was only when someone placed their hand on my chest, causing me to start, that I took in my surroundings.

Laura was standing over me like a hawk. Her hand was placed firmly on my chest. Monitoring my heart rate as well as forcing me to lie still. "It's okay, John, just take deep breaths." She said gently.

I began to gasp for air, desperate for oxygen. They tried to place a mask over my face with a bag attached. I knew it was probably just oxygen, but I didn't trust it at first. However, I was not free to fight back and wanted oxygen so badly that I quickly relented and Laura placed the mask onto my face.

The first breath made me feel dizzy and I closed my eyes. The air felt so good in my lungs. I took deep breaths over and over again, enjoying the rush of cool, clean air. After several minutes, my breathing returned to normal and the mask was removed. The air felt heavier now, but I soon got used to it again.

Laura removed her hand from my chest and I turned my head to the side to see the concerned faces of Sherlock and Mary. Mary was closest and she reached out to cup my face in her hands. Deftly, she wiped a sweat-soaked piece of hair off my forehead. The touch was calming and I closed my eyes again as Mary began to rub my hand with her thumb, running small circles over it.

Mary's thumb moved to my wrist and gently rubbed under the tight restraints, although she could only just fit. I hissed with pain and Mary froze. I opened my eyes again and looked into hers, which were full of concern.

"What's wrong?"

"Hurts"

"Where?"

"Under the restraint."

I hissed again as Mary tried to lift up the restraint the see my skin underneath. Doctor Lyle then spoke up.

"He said to me that the restraints were rubbing his skin raw, and then proceeded to pull and tug at them, which probably made it worse."

I glanced at Sherlock. He looked back at me with a deep intensity in his sharp blue eyes. He was trying to tell me something, but I was still drugged up and I couldn't read it. I frowned at him and he shook his head.

Laura held up a tube of liquid which I should have recognised and some cotton wipes. She knelt down by my bedside and said gently "John, I'm going to take this restraint off to sort your wrists out. If you try anything, you'll be sedated immediately". I rolled my eyes but nodded my assent.

As gently as possible, Laura undid the straps. I remained still but said "I want Mary to do it."

Laura looked about to argue but Mary intervened. "I'm a nurse, I know what to do."

"I'm sure you're perfectly capable, but John needs to learn to trust us." Laura replied.

Mary nodded and glanced at me cautiously. As soon as Laura's fingers touched my skin, I tried to pull my hand away.

"John, we can only help you if you cooperate."

I sighed and closed my eyes. I tensed my muscles when I was touched, but didn't pull my hand away. As Laura placed the damp cotton onto my irritated skin, I relaxed as the cooling sensation relieved the previous burning. Laura's hands were gentle and efficient, and she had soon done both wrists. I realised that she hadn't put either restraint back on, and I opened my eyes to look questioningly at her.

"John, Doctor Lyle and I have decided that you are no longer a severe threat, and therefore no longer need to be restrained constantly. You will, however, be restrained once again if you do anything that endangers yourself or others, and you will be monitored at all times. Does that make sense?"

I nodded slowly and immediately curled into a ball, facing away from everyone. It didn't last long.

"John? We need you to take these."

I rolled back over and eyed the cup containing my medication suspiciously.

"What will they do?" I asked with caution.

"They're to stop the voices and the panic."

I took the cup and inspected its contents. "Why have you put lorazepam in here?"

"Because you just had a panic attack and need to rest."

I looked back down at the pills and formed a plan. I took each pill separately, but stored the lorazepam in my cheek before swallowing the others down with water. Unfortunately, Sherlock's observational skills were too good for me.

"Swallow the last one, John." He said, surprising everyone.

"What one?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"The one in your cheek, which I assume is the lorazepam."

I sighed and swallowed it down with water before turning away from the group once more and huddling under my sheets.

"Let's leave him in peace." Laura said quietly, and I listened as four sets of footsteps receded out of the door and far away from me.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review and tell me what you think so far, it's greatly appreciated :)<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sherlock stopped Doctor Lyle outside of my room, and out of my earshot.

"Doctor, what did you talk about with John?" He asked, grabbing his arm.

"That's confidential information, sir." He replied levelly.

"I need to know it. I can help John more than any of you." Sherlock stepped a little closer.

"What makes you think that?"

"I'm John's best friend, I was his flatmate. He trusts me more than any of you. I know things about him that nobody else does, even Mary, and I've already read the notes you took." He spoke at the speed of light, barely allowing the doctor time to process it all.

"Sir, that's a breach of confidentiality. I cannot allow you to do that."

"You wrote that John isn't trusting of new people, yes?"

"Yes."

"And you wrote that John was concealing the truth from you, yes?"

"Hmmm"

"So, you need someone who is both trusted by John and can tell whether or not he's lying."

"The doctors here are trained to earn people's trust and read their body language. We are perfectly capable." He was starting to get irritated by Sherlock's insistence.

Seeing that this forwardness wasn't working, Sherlock changed tack. He let go of Doctor Lyle's arm and stepped back. "Please." He said, his eyes fixed on the doctor's "He's my friend. I want to help him."

The doctor shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "What you can do for John is try to talk to him, show him he's not at fault for what he did, and show him that we are trustworthy, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock nodded before turning around and walking back into my room.

I awoke again a few hours later to find Sherlock sitting next to my bed, watching me with his usual intensity.

"Where's Mary?" I asked groggily.

"She had to do a shift at the surgery. She'll be back later."

There was silence for a few minutes before Sherlock spoke again. "Why didn't you want to take that pill earlier?"

"Because it makes me like this." I replied, waving my hand in the air weakly to demonstrate. There was a sore, pink band of skin circling my wrist that Sherlock eyed with concern. He clearly hadn't enjoyed watching me lie restrained to a bed.

"John, what did the voices say when you first came home?" Sherlock asked.

I narrowed my eyes, but I could tell Sherlock wasn't asking on the doctor's behalf. He leaned forward a little in his chair and waited.

"Many things. Mainly that I had failed and that for allowing my comrades to die...I was just as bad as the people we were trying to fight." My voice cracked and I closed my eyes.

"But John, you'd saved so many lives too." Sherlock said, placing a tentative hand on my shoulder.

"I know that, but it's hard to ignore your own mind!" I burst out, opening my eyes again.

"Was it still happening when you moved in with me?"

"Yes, but they faded away as the cases came up, but they returned when..." I couldn't finish.

"When I jumped?" I nodded to show Sherlock was correct, as always.

"They told me that I had failed you, like I have failed all those other young men."

"I'm so sorry, John. Really, I am. But there was no other way. Moriarty had to be stopped." Sherlock said softly, with his hand still on my shoulder. It was clear he was uncertain what to do.

"I know." Was all I could say in response. I didn't blame Sherlock for starting the voices again. I had, but I no longer did. It wasn't his fault.

"I'll help you, John. And Mary will help too. But we need to know about your past, so it doesn't have to affect your future." Sherlock said after several minutes' silence.

"Get Mycroft to go digging. He probably already has...but there's some things that even he might struggle to access." I said slowly.

Sherlock removed his hand from my shoulder and sat back, looking at me quizzically. "What do you mean?" He asked carefully.

I was about to respond when Laura walked in carrying a tray of food. I mouthed 'later' at Sherlock before turning to Laura as she spoke.

"Hi John. I've brought in your tea. You haven't eaten much for the past week, so this will be good for you." She placed the tray on my lap. I noticed the cup of pills in her to her hand, but decided not to comment on them yet. Laura was right, I was starving, even though the food didn't look that appetising.

I ate steadily and drank the juice that was provided too. It wasn't the best meal I'd ever had, but it filled me up well.

"We need to start getting you up and moving around tomorrow." Laura said brightly. I gave her a half smile, but the idea didn't appeal to me much. It seemed too long ago that I last been in the outside world.

Laura handed me the pot of drugs and I inspected the contents. Two lorazepams, along with some I didn't recognise.

"Don't make me check your mouth." Laura said half jokingly. I glanced at Sherlock, who nodded towards the pills. There was no point trying anything, then. I swallowed them down quickly and curled up once more, just as Mary walked into the room.

"How is he?" She asked Sherlock quietly.

"I think the drugs are working, as he hasn't mentioned the voices in about a day, but that doesn't guarantee anything." There was a pause, and Mary seemed about to speak when Sherlock added "Oh, and there's something else. He hinted that something bad had happened in Afghanistan."

"Well, he got shot, didn't he?" Mary asked, not fully understanding Sherlock.

"Yes, he did. But there's something else. He said even Mycroft might find it hard to find it out."

"I wonder what it could be." Mary asked herself, settling into a chair and reaching out to rub my temple. "Is he asleep?" She asked.

"Not sure, but he just took some more lorazepam, so he will be soon if not already."

Mary didn't make a verbal reply, but I was sure she must have nodded. "Hey, John." She said, her thumb caressing my temple soothingly. Slowly, I used my fading energy to roll over to face Mary and Sherlock. My eyes were falling closed against my will once more. " 's a video." I mumbled.

"A video of what?"

"Me in Afghanistan."

"What about you, John?" Sherlock asked, leaning closer.

"Water. No' good." And with that, my eyes fell shut and my breathing evened out. I was still aware of Mary's gentle hand for a short while.

"What did that mean?" Mary asked.

"I don't know, but I can find out. I'll be back in a minute, I'm just calling my dearest brother." Sherlock replied as his footsteps receded.


End file.
